Weathering the Pain
by stopwhenisaywhen
Summary: crisscolfer  Darren experiences bouts of weather, in important moments, from the first time he was afraid of thunderstorms to the last time he was afraid of thunderstorms.


**A/N**: I entend to make two parts to this story, because it counts up to 10 weather phenomenons.

******Media:**** Fic**

****Title: ****Weathering the Pains.

**Rating:** PG-13

****Pairings: ****Chris and Darren

****Spoilers (if any):** **Cannot spoil what isn't true

****Warnings (if any):** **Angst, I should warn for that. A shit load of italics, and some tense changes, that I don't know about, because I need a beta to help me.

****Word Count: ****2800+

****Summary:** **Darren experiences weather in bursts of important moments in his life, from the first time he found out he was afraid of thunderstorms, to the last time he was afraid of thunderstorms.

**Author's Note (if any)**: The song that Darren writes, really _isn't_ his, because it's my friend's. She was reluctant to have the song in this, but with much convincing I got her to give me a great part of the song, because it's what spiked the fic anyway, so thank her. If you want to hear the actual song, send me a PM, and I shall direct you over to her tumblr, where she will _willingly_ give you an MP3 of her song! ONWARDS.

* * *

><p><strong>1. Thunderstorms<strong>: Chuck

Darren used to be afraid of thunderstorms as a child.

They were terryfingly loud, and would strike at random. Though Chuck would tell him to count between the strikes, just to calculate how far they were from each other, it would still scare him. The booms would derail him from every number, and he'd just stop, and crawl underneath his covers, with Chuck stroking his back, whispering reassurances.

_"One_..._come on Dare, count with me.."_

_"One.."_

_"Two..."_

_"Three.."_

_"F-f-four...Chuck!"_

_"It's okay, come on, get in your bed..."_

_"I'm sorry Chuck.."_

_"It's okay.."_

* * *

><p><strong>2. Rain<strong>: Chris

When Darren meets _him_ it's raining, and lightning is illuminating the skies. He remembers the yellow raincoat hanging over the back of _his_ chair. He remembers the coffee, and two biscottis, the laptop, and the cellphone on the table. He remembers hearing a melodic laugh, and a sudden hand tugging at his arm.

Most of all, he remembers _eyes_, and an _angel_.

He remembers eyes that were the colour of heavy rain, and cold waters, and blue skies, and crystal blue oceans _all at once_, and an angel in a graphic tee, _ninja turtles_, and old jeans with a hole in the knees.

"_Look at you all cold! We don't want you getting all sick and stuff. What is it.. a chai latte? Something warmer right? Look at you!_"

He follows the boy with wide eyes and heavy feet. He blames it on wet socks, and suprises, when people ask him. He blames it all on the rain, and the cold, and the water, and sometimes on _himself_. Mostly he blames it on the rain, with a little hint of _blue_ and _grey_, and anything his head can come up with, even though he knows it's all his own fault.

"_Well, now that we've got you all situated, wih a good cup of coffee... I'm Chris Colfer. Huge nerd, Mario kart Extraordinaire, and Glee Cast member. Though I don't usually go by that, since it's all 'Chris Colfer actor from Glee' all the time.._"

He remembers laughing. A lot.

He remembers exchanging numbers, and addresses, and taking a few photos to send to his mom, and a few for contact icons on their phones. Darren remembers pulling out his weirdest face, and hearing _his_ melodical laugh, and how "_You're so weird_" came out more endearing than as some sort of ill-fitted insult. He remembers Chris pulling a face too. A quirked brow, a tongue between his lips, and his eyes crossed, and the shutter of a camera. He remembers leaving that coffee shop warmer than ever, and so much of _something_ that he couldn't quite put a name to.

And with all of that came so much more. Darren would hang out with Chris on Saturdays and Sundays when they weren't busy and they'd just watch movies, slowly moving from opposite chairs, and into the same couch, down to the same cushion, fighting over a Disney blanket.

It became _their thing_.

* * *

><p><strong>3. Fog<strong>: Himself and Chris

They were thrusted into each other's lives with smiles on their faces. Sometimes Darren and _him_ would spend days in San Francisco at the wharf dress in odd pieces of fabric, trying to blend in with the crowd, and the odd fog. Sometimes they'd sit on the roof of Darren's old home, and they'd just watch the kids from down below, that called for Darren, because they heard he was back around.

_"That's so cute, they call you the BABYSITTER!"_

_"It was my job you know, I'd baby sit these kids all the time, sometimes I'd take them camping or something, you know. BONDING TIME WITH THE NEIGHBOURHOOD KIDS DARREN STYLE"_

_"Did this include Disney songs around the fire, and s'mores along with scary stories?"_

_"Would that interest you"_

_"You'd have had me at DISNEY SONGS,"_

It became _them_. No longer were they Darren and Chris, because in everyone's eyes they were DarrenandChris. They were like San Francisco and fog. Never one without the other, in many ways. If Darren was seen alone, he'd have his phone held tightly in his hand, vibrating every three seconds with a message from Chris, and vice versa. Darren was San Francisco, and Chris was the fog. He was the odd town, with the eccentricities, and _Chris_ was the blanket of fog, with it's mystery and over whelming sense of _there_.

Chris was the blanket that covered Darren when times came to a whirlwind and when times came to a hault. With every call, and text, and late night skype sessions, Chris came over Darren and covered him in a haze.

Still, Darren couldn't catch that _feeling_. That very same feeling from a year and a half ago in that coffee shop. He still can't catch the way his stomach turns to it's side and crashes right against his heart, and forces it to thump against his ribcage everytime _he_ smiles, and laughs in that hypnotizingly melodic manner. Even if he tried, he couldn't catch it, and he wasn't sure he'd ever want to catch it.

* * *

><p><strong>4. Hail<strong>: Lauren & Joey

_"You're full of shit, I see you and your eyes!"_

_"What the hell!"_

_"Darren, you're a dumbass, but we're bigger dumbasses, that means when one dumbass makes a mistake, a bigger dumbass can see that mistake, and point it out, because we're bigger dumbasses, and we can tell!"_

_"Like that makes any sense, Joey..."_

_"Don't hate, Dare, it's the truth.."_

_"It's just that..."_

_"What?"_

_"Yeah, _what_, Darren?"_

_"It's been a while, I don't even know if-"_

_"You're full of shit, we're all going out tonight!"_

_"That is until you get back to L.A with your head out of your ass, and cleared up!"_

_"..uh, thanks?"_

It's hailing when Darren walks back to Joey's apartment with Joey and Lauren on tow. He recalls their words, and the fact that they seem to believe that he's got his head far up in his ass, because of _him_ and that _feeling_.

Joey seems to think that there's something more, with every time that he can't make a skype session with the rest of the crew, because he's got dinner with Chris and Hannah, and the rest of the Colfer family. Lauren seems to think that with every passing moment, and every fleeting look at his phone, something is going on. She's been more serious as the years came passing.

_"Darren..."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"You remember that time when it was slightly raining, and you claimed that it was just 'rain' and you invited every single starkid to your house for a party? You remember that?"_

_"Yeah, why?"_

_"You know that feeling?"_

_"Lo.."_

_"You know how you're saying it's really 'nothing' and how you said that the rain was all but water, and how that water turned into 'hail' the next minute, and went on for about an hour, until it snowed?"_

_"It's nothing...I promise.."_

_"And that rain, wasn't hail at all, Dare."_

* * *

><p><strong>5. Snow<strong>: Himself and _her_

_And when you close your eyes I want to kiss them open.  
>Because I miss the way they glow, and gaze into my own.<br>When you open your mouth to talk, I want to close them over with my own.  
>I just want your voice for my own, I want you saying my name in my house, in my home.<em>

He writes the song, but he stops as soon as he hits _home_.

He hits a string in his own heart, and closes his eyes.

This is _not_ his song, he thinks to himself, because he's got no one to hold and kiss and love, right now. This is not his song, and this will not be for the next few months.

He turns around, and looks everywhere. He sees his side table, his wardrobe, his closet, and his bed. It's not empty, but it's not full. On his sidetable, there's a lamp, and a jar of candy. His wardrobe is an extension of his closet, and it's filled with his old and much more comfrotable clothes. His closet is saved for his fancier brands, of which he just got this year, because no matter how much Ricky loves his clothes and is willing to let him keep them, he has to listen to his higher men, and purchase some new stuff to wear.

His eyes go to his own bed last. It's the saddest part of his house, he thinks, because it's got a double set of everything, but only one person to sleep in it. On some occasions, he'll have Joey over, and they'll scoot in the same bed together because Joey is reluctant to break his neck over a leather couch.

Often times, he'll look over to the left side of his bed and think. Would she be a red head, or a brunette, or some girl with flowing golden locks? Would she be on her side, on her stomach, or on her back when she slept? Would she hog the blankets, or would she prefer to sleep without one?

Now-a-days Darren can't afford to be with someone. He's busy with work left and right, up and down. No matter how much he wanted to be with _her_, from New York, and to L.A, he couldn't. He always wants, but he's got this _thing _and this _feeling_ poking at him from the inside, and he doesn't know what it is. He thinks it's his work, and his need to be _everywhere_ all at once. He wants _her_, but then again, there's that _thing _that he needs to do _somewhere_.

He scraps the paper, and yells at the garbage can.

"You are not _my_ song!"

He tosses on a coat, and walks out into the rain, wishing that it would turn to snow, and just bury him in the blanket of white.

_Blanket_, he thought to himself, _I like the sound of that_...

* * *

><p><strong>6. Haze<strong>: Chris and Darren and Ryan Murphy.

It's hazy outside the gates of the studio, when he pulls into the parking lot and waves at Harry, and Mark, and the woman who works at the cafeteria when he passes by the food stations. He smiles at Lea as she rushes over to him. "You have a meeting with Ryan, and Chris in five," she says to him as she walks away, "Don't be late!"

He walks to make-up and he sits in the chair, waiting for Sarah to come and do his hair. "You've got a big meeting ahead of you Darren," says Sarah, "Don't want you to be late today, so I'll just do your hair for now, and we'll brush you up later."

He wonders what everyone is talking about, and stops when he sees Chris pull into the chair next to him. "Meeting today, Dare," is the first thing he says. Darren doesn't think of saying anything in return to Chris because he's got Annie's hands in his hair, and he's got his eyes down at his ipad, playing a rousing game of Angry Birds, and a bit of Temple Run when he throws a fit at one of the red birds.

_"We're shooting their first time. It's gonna be big, but not too big, we don't want to piss people off. We're here to make a statement, not start a riot, even though I'm sure that two boys laying next to each other down to close to nothing, in the same bed will be starting a riot anyway!"_

_"That's...that's something.."_

_"Yes, Chris, it is.."_

_"And it's a big something, right?"_

_"That dear Darren, is also right!"_

_"So we're doing this? Me and Darren?"_

_"You plus Darren, a couple slivers of skin, a shot of the the pre-glow, and little glances at each other...So what do you say?"_

Ryan gave them two days to think about it, but in Darren's mind, he's already chosen his decision.

_Yes_.

All he waited for was Chris, which didn't really take long, because now he was in the presence of the very boy, being dragged into Chris' trailer, with a bag of chips and a bucket of Ben and Jerry's.

"So what do you think, Darren?"

"Huh?"

Chris smiles widely at Darren, and ushers him into the couch right next to himself.

"I was asking about today," sighs Chris, "What are your thoughts on-"

"I say we do it..."

"Are you-"

"Infinitely sure.."

Darren looks into Chris' eyes and sees a glimmer of _something_, and at the very same moment his insides turned, and flushed, and squirmed, and forced his beating heart into his throat. _There. _There it was.

That feeling.

"Darren?"

He doesn't remember getting up, and walking out into the lot. He doesn't remember spreading his arms, and calling out to the skies. He doesn't remember what he said, but he does remember several things.

He remembers the way Chris held him in his arms. He remembers the way he smells, and the way his hands felt, rubbing down, and up, and right, and left, and everywhere on his back, comforting him. He remembers the way he turned himself into Chris' body and let out a wretched cry of pain.

_There_, that's exactly what it was.


End file.
